The Meretricious Disposition of The Valentine
by Xx Ryo xX
Summary: "'So, Tintin. Do you know what day it is tomorrow' The Captain asked casually..." Tintin has encountered a particular day of significance to many people, to which he may or may not be obligated to participate. The Captain insists that Tintin makes the most of this event, whereas Tintin himself doesn't particularly find it intriguing until he discovers THE mystery. Then, it is.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **We must all find ourselves resigned to the concept that I'm not actually Hergé.

I apologise for any potential misunderstandings we may have had over this.

**A/N:** I'm tempted to publish this in 'Only Him', but I may or may not continue with this later on. So. No. I hope you enjoy reading!

* * *

**The Inscrutable and Meretricious Disposition of The Valentine  
PART ONE  
xXx**

* * *

"_So_, Tintin. Do you know what day it is tomorrow?" The Captain asked casually, putting his hands behind his back and walking up to where his friend was sitting. Tintin was so engrossed in his book that he failed to notice the expectant expression on his friends face as though there was a particular answer he was waiting for.

"Tuesday, isn't it?" he replied dismissively, without looking up and turning the page carefully. "It said so, on the Calender last time I checked."  
"The date, I meant," the Captain clarified.  
"Tomorrow? The fourteenth, I think. Does it matter?"  
"It might,"  
"Might it?" he asked, still not paying full attention.  
"Well, it could. For _you_," the Captain added, emphasising the last word. He didn't want to be too direct with this, but he was hardly going to stand there and waffle for the next half an hour until his friend finally grasped what he was trying to talk about.  
"Oh, right, sure."  
Or maybe he would have to waffle. The Captain resisted to roll his eyes, and was inwardly debating with himself on elaborating a little when he finally got the delayed reaction he was waiting for.

"Wait," Tintin glanced up. "For _me_?"

He had only just registered the light tone the Captain was using, and now that he looked over he could see him holding their Calender as though there was something he should have remembered. Tintin eyed the paper quickly and an odd feeling of panic filled him as he desperately wracked his brains for what significant event he should have been acknowledging.

'_Oh, crumbs! I've forgotten something haven't I, and it's probably important because otherwise the Captain wouldn't be pointing it out to me. Is it the Captain's birthday? No, hold on, the Captain's isn't until April, and it's still February. My birthd- No, already been! What-?'_

"Here, take a closer look," the Captain said crossly, interrupting his friends thoughts that were currently going over a string of any other possibilities that were now ranging from anniversaries of famous people to every official publication date of any book he could think of. Tintin reached out and took it from him, his eyes scanning across each week to find any particular marking that he may have missed.

"The fourteenth?" he muttered quietly, staring closer at the blank squares on the Calender. There were no handwritten markings, no plans, not anything.  
"What am I supposed to be looking for?" he asked, sounding bemused and unable to notice anything out of the ordinary.  
"I don't see w- … OH," he fell silent for a moment. "So that's what it is."  
"You see?"  
"I do."  
"Are you sure?"  
"I'd hope so."  
"It's Valentines day," the Captain declared, pleased that he had finally understood what was happening.  
"Yes, so I've figured." The 14th of February had been covered in pink hearts that were printed only on that particular square. "Tomorrow isValentines Day," he agreed with mild amusement, not entirely sure why this day had been pointed out to him.

"_So?" _the Captain asked slowly after a moment of silence, suddenly looking as though Tintin was still severely missing a part of the conversation. He gave a nod towards the door pointedly and raised his hands slightly in question, thoroughly confused with this unusually dense behaviour. Tintin frowned, lost at where this conversation was going again.  
"You… you want me to take you out for Valentines Day?" he tried uncertainly, forming a bemused smile and folding the Calender before placing it aside. "I'm flattered by your interest, I think, but you know I'm not-"  
"What?! Thundering typhoons, that isn't what I meant, lad!" The Captain quickly cut him off, suddenly realizing how his question had been misinterpreted. "That wasn't what I was saying, I didn't mean _me_! Blistering barnacles, no! Definitely not," he finished shortly, shaking his head and trying not to laugh at the bizarre idea. "I meant was, what are your plans for tomorrow, for you? Do you have er… plans for tomorrow?" So much for subtly dropping the question, he thought.

Tintin blinked; stunned into silence.

"It's long past my time when I was interested in these sorts of things, but you're still young, Tintin," the Captain carried on, unaware of the blank stare he was getting. "You should plan something for Valentines!"

There was a pause as Tintin thought this over.

"… plan something?" he said at last.  
"Yes."  
"So, a date, you mean."  
"Yes, a date, lad!"  
"For tomorrow?" He said, as though still unsure what he was being asked.  
"Yes, for tomorrow!" The Captain repeated, beginning to sound exasperated. Surely the boy had been on one before? "Blistering barnacles! It's not that difficult to understand!"  
"But what if I don't want a date?" he asked earnestly, leaning back.  
"It was just a suggestion," the Captain reminded him, waving a hand. "I'm not going to force you to leave the house, but you shouldn't stay indoors when you could be making better use of your time."  
"Yes, well… we'll see." Tintin closed his book thoughtfully.

He normally didn't have any interest in these sorts of fanatical public celebrations, but it had been rather dull lately and tomorrow would be a good excuse to go out. It was worrying enough that he was actually almost considering the idea, let alone that he'd run out of things to do for the time being, but now that he thought about it he may be able to make the most of the obnoxious holiday and perhaps even find a new adventure in amongst the entire ruckus.

A public holiday meant a lot of new people visiting which could lead to at least something out of the ordinary happening, and trouble meant adventure, and that meant a new story he could start following as he didn't have one presently. He frowned a little at this conclusion, realizing he'd just linked a sentimental emotional day to one of his potential reports for work. How on earth was he meant to get a date if he couldn't even give the day a non-objective outlook?

"Well, if you change your mind I'm sure you could easily make the most out of Valentines Day, Tintin," the Captain said, shrugging noncommittally. "I bet you could charm any young lady if you put your mind to it," he gave a reassuring nod.  
Tintin gave a quiet laugh and just shook his head. "I dread to think."

* * *

**A/N: **So this has been sitting on my computer for about a millennia and a half, so I figured now is a good time to stop it from collecting figurative dust.  
It's not meant to be a srs bsns deep and intricate interpretation of Tintin; just take it what it was: a procrastination tool of amusement.  
If you're curious, for some reason unknown to mankind, about my actual take on Tintin + Romance, PM me and we can discuss it over tea and biscuits that don't actually exist.

Comments, constructive criticism, messages, flames and scorn, interpretive essays, PhD thesis's, a Master's Degree, a Sherlock-style deductive passage, Schrödinger's cat, Einstein's 3rd Law of Thermodynamics, all of the above are actively encouraged and I'll value them forever.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **Despite writing the ingenious character of Tintin, he doesn't belong to me.  
© to Hergé, as it is. I'm not Hergé.

* * *

**The Inscrutable and Meretricious Disposition of The Valentine  
PART TWO  
xXx**

* * *

The next morning had begun like any other morning, surprisingly. Nothing, despite the anticipated flair-filled atmosphere of the festive holiday, had seemed to have changed at Marlinspike. Tintin awoke to the typical sunlight streaming through his curtains and straight onto his face, effectively making him have to leave his bed.

"150 million miles away, and the sun still has perfect aim so it'll semi-blind me the moment I opened my eyes," he murmured, sitting up. "Well, at least I'll be in time for breakfast."

He yawned and stretched slowly, half tempted to just forget his agreement with the Captain to go out for Valentines and spend the day here instead.  
"I don't know why I even considered it, Snowy," he said, looking down at his little fox terrier who leapt up the moment he saw Tintin get up and trudge towards the door for breakfast. "Nothing's different for today anyway."

At that exact moment a loud shout echoed from downstairs, and was followed by the sound of feet running up the stairs. There was a surprising amount of yelling going on for such an early time in the morning, and Tintin took a small step backwards in faint trepidation. He relaxed when he heard the familiar voice travelling up the stairs and into his room.

"Tintin! TINTIN! Thundering typhoons, you have to see this!"  
The shouting gradually became louder as the Captain ran into the corridor.  
"Or maybe there will be something different for today," he said, quickly striding the rest of the way to the door and wrenching it open just in time to see the Captain leap around the corner and hurtle towards his room, his hands full of letters that were being scattered across the floor behind him.

"What's wrong, Captain? Has something happened?" Tintin asked, trying not to look alarmed by this sudden commotion. "And why do you have all our mail?"  
"Blistering barnacles, look!" the Captain said, coming to an abrupt halt and holding the remaining collection of letters up in front of them. Tintin raised his hands and took them from his friend. He started to flick through them, reading the addresses.  
"This one just looks like a bill form from the bank," he remarked, confused and making a mental note to fill it in later. "What's so important about this form that you have to run around at 7 in the morning shouting about it?"  
"What? A bill?" The Captain snatched the letter from him and read it. "No, no, forget that one."  
He threw it aside carelessly and pointed to the others in his hand. "There are two addressed to you, that's what I was shouting about."  
"There are? But who would be writing to me?" he asked, looking through the remaining ones curiously. "Heavens, don't tell me these are-" his eyes widened in surprise.  
"Open it and see."  
"What, now?"  
"You might as well."  
He sighed and opened the first envelope that has his name written on it. There was a moment of silence as Tintin read through the card, his eyebrows rising before he started to smile and started to read it out loud in slight disbelief.

"_To my dearest Tintin,  
__As a faithful follower of your work, and possibly you,  
__I have read every single article you have written over the years,  
__So for Valentines Day, I've written you a poem~"_

He stopped talking when the Captain peered over his shoulder distractingly.  
"I can't read when you're looming like that, Captain."  
"What? Oh, right! So, what's the poem?" the Captain asked eagerly, moving away a little.  
"Are you sure you want to hear it?"  
"Of course I do, stop stalling."  
"Alright, alright."

Tintin glanced up at the Captain briefly and then continued to read.

_My typewriter's __**red**__,  
__Your T-Shirt is __**blue**__.  
__If I were a writer,  
__I'd "report" __**you**__._

_I'm reporting this now,  
__I'm just a beginner.  
__So teach me your ways,  
__And then, let's have dinner_

_x_

_Yours so very sincerely, K._

The writing ended there, and there was short awkward pause as both friends just stared at the card.

"Well, isn't that uh… romantic," was all the Captain could manage before bursting out with laughter. Tintin continued to look at the card, rereading it closely with a subtle frown.  
"… how does she know my shirt is blue?"  
"That is brilliant! Blistering barnacles, I haven't heard such a thing in all my life!"  
"And why would she want to 'report' me? I don't understand," he wondered. "I already report me," he added, talking more to himself than the Captain who was now bracing himself with one arm on the wall.  
"That is-" he gasped for air, "-the best thing-" he took another breath, "-I have ever heard! HA!"  
"She already has a typewriter, a red one apparently, so why _isn't_ she a writer?" Tintin finished, blatantly ignoring the Captain by this point. He looked over the poem thoughtfully, trying to understand what it actually meant.

"Quick, open the other one!" the Captain advised, once he had calmed down enough to form coherent English sentences.  
Tintin flicked to the other unopened envelope in his hand and read over the thin cursive writing.  
"Well? What are you waiting for?"  
"Actually, Captain, this one's for you."  
"What?"

He held the paper between two fingers and handed it over, a smile forming as the Captain took it, opened it, and started reading. He quickly scowled.  
"My dearest _**Captain Heartock**_?!" he said out loud, sounding absolutely scandalized. He glared down at the letter and then promptly scrunched it up in his fist, refusing to finish reading it. Tintin arched an eyebrow at him but didn't say anything, even when the Captain tucked the letter away in his jacket pocket despite his apparent outrage at whoever had written it.  
"Is that all?" Tintin asked, smiling pleasantly.  
"I should hope so, that woman wouldn't be able to spell my name right even if I personally spelt it out to her in block letters."  
"Hm. Well, perhaps you should try that with her some time?"  
"Yes, perha- what are you implying?"  
"Nothing at all, Captain!" Tintin said, although the amusement in his eyes betrayed his casual tone. "Anyway, I have to get dressed and go out. I won't be spending the day here at Marlinspike after all."  
The Captain's eyes narrowed suspiciously.  
"What? Why not?"  
"Why not? Weren't you the one insisting I make the most of today?" He said, looking surprised and dodging the question.  
"Well, yes," the Captain began impatiently. "But you didn't look so keen on it last night when I suggested it. So, what's changed?"  
Tintin looked at him steadily and then flipped the card over to reveal a PS. message that was written in tiny letters, something that could be easily missed. The Captain squinted, trying to read it from where he was standing.

"It's an address," Tintin informed him, saving him the trouble of making out the tiny words. "A possible rendezvous, if I'm not mistaken."  
"So now you're going to go gallivanting off to this unknown place to meet some unknown admirer?" The Captain asked, looking wary. "Thundering typhoons, lad! It could be dangerous!"  
"The address is at the first typewriter store I went to when I first arrived," Tintin told him, rereading it carefully. "And because of that, I do have a slight idea of who this could be. I mean, it could be someone entirely different, but if it is who I think it is, I'll recognize her when I see her."  
"Who?"  
"I don't want to be late, so I'll have to skip breakfast."  
"Wait, you're leaving now?"  
"I'll be back before the evening, I promise."  
"Wait, no, hold on a second, lad! Who is this that you-"  
"I'll see you downstairs in a moment, and then I'll probably be gone for the day."  
"Slow down, Tintin!" The Captain said loudly, trying to keep up with what his friend was planning. "You're actually going to try and find this person who sent you the poem?"  
"I don't see why not; it's a mystery, isn't it? It could be anyone, or anything," he gave a smile, one that was all too familiar. It was the kind of smile he had when he'd found a new case to explore, and the Captain realized what the sudden keen interest was really about: this wasn't so much about the _girl_ per se, but the idea of a mystery adventure and the opportunity to track it down.

Well, if Tintin was ever going to go on a date, this would be as close as he'd get, he supposed.

The Captain gave in and stopped pressing the subject, leaving Tintin to get dressed. As he made his way back downstairs he started to wonder whether bringing the mail up had been such a good idea after all. That boy didn't know how to stay out of trouble and while he was responsible, when his mind was set on something, he could easily forget the simplest of things.

"I need to stop worrying; it was my idea to begin with," the Captain reminded himself, walking into the living room to the breakfast table. Not five minutes had passed after he'd sat down with a new plate of toast and a cup of tea when he was disrupted by Tintin, who appeared at the door wearing his long trench coat and typical his blue shirt. He didn't look any different to any other day, albeit he usually was very well dressed, and the Captain regarded him with a puzzled frown.

"You're not dressing up for today, I see," he observed blankly.  
"Not at all, why would I? These are my working clothes," Tintin replied, marching over and snatching the last piece of toast off the Captains plate. "Do you mind if I just take this before I go? I don't have time for breakfast," he added.  
"Sure, go for it," The Captain said, picking up his newspaper. He was tempted to ask more questions about what he was actually going to do for today to find the poems sender, but he figured it'd only make him worry.  
"I'll see you when you get back."  
"Thanks."  
The Captain heard Tintin walked quickly out of the room and then a few seconds later heard the front door slam shut.

It was going to be a long day.

**xXx**

The Captain sat beside the fireplace, checking the large clock that rested on the mantelpiece every few minutes. It wasn't that he was anxious, not at all. He was just paying more attention to the time now that it was almost past 7:00pm in the evening and Tintin hadn't come home yet. Nestor was standing by the door also waiting, at the Captains orders, for any sign of someone walking through the front gates.

This was ridiculous; it wasn't as though he was Tintin's parent but the Captain couldn't help but feel a little concerned now that it was 7:02, and two minutes had passed since the last time he'd glanced at the clock, and if Tintin didn't come back soon and stop him from worrying over seemingly nothing, he was sure he was going to go mad.

Just as he was beginning to consider going outside where there wouldn't be a clock to antagonize him every few minutes, the door suddenly opened and Tintin peered into the room, his eyes glancing inquisitively around the room.

"Captain? Ah, there you are!" He stepped back for a moment so Nester could take the raincoat that was draped over his arm so he could hang it on the hooks by the front door.

The fact the young reporter was just as unperturbed as the Captain wished he'd felt while pacing the room made him momentarily forget the reason Tintin had gone out in the first place. An odd feeling of relief swept over him and he sunk down into one of the chairs, not even bothering to collect up his pipe from where it had dropped onto the floor.

"Hello, Captain!" Tintin said brightly, staying at the doorway and looking like he was about to leave again. "I'm home now."  
"Yes, I can see that," the Captain replied, gesturing to the door and feeling significantly less stressed now that he knew Tintin wasn't actually caught up in some dangerous adventure or being kidnapped (again) like he'd been dreading. "How're you feeling, lad?"  
"Well, it's been a surprisingly long day, so I'm definitely not sorry to be back," he replied, pausing to check the time on his watch. "And I'm afraid I'll have to see you tomorrow, Captain. Nester told me you've been waiting, so I thought I'd quickly come here to let you know I'm alright. But I am quite tired, I must say, so an early night for me seems to be the best choice, don't you think?"  
"Wait, you're going now?" The Captain asked, looking surprised. He knew the boy was rather pedantic so he usually did go to sleep at an early hour, that was nothing strange, but before 8 seemed a bit excessive. "What about dinner?"  
"Oh, that's okay," Tintin reassured him with an easy smile. "I had dinner while I was out."  
His blatant curiosity must have lit up in his expression because Tintin then added, "You want to know what happened, don't you?" He raised an eyebrow.  
"Not the details," the Captain said concisely, not wanting to seem intrusive. "Just-"  
"My day really wasn't that fascinating, Captain," he told him, cutting him off and looking amused.  
"Oh, come on, Tintin. You wouldn't be able to have a dull day, even if you tried," the Captain said sceptically.  
Tintin gave a sigh and conceded with a small laugh.  
"That's true. Alright, what would you like to know?" He looked expectantly at the Captain. "I'll only answer two questions tonight, though," he asserted with a slight inclination of his head. "And then I'll be going to bed, because I really am tired."  
"Sound fair to me," the Captain said, nodding and folding his arms, looking thoughtful.  
A few second of silence passed as he tried to think up what to ask.

"Some time around right about now would be great, Captain," Tintin suggested lightly, smiling and leaning against the door frame, waiting patiently.  
"Yes, yes! Blistering barnacles, I know that!"  
"Okay, I was just checking," Tintin feigned an innocent expression.  
The Captain ignored this.  
"So, here's my first question," The Captain finally began. "Did you end up meeting anyone?"  
"I met a lot of people today," he replied evasively, not quite giving the answer the Captain was looking for.  
"You know what I mean," the Captain said testily.  
"Yes," Tintin agreed, still amiable.  
"Did you find the person who sent the letter, is what I mean, Tintin," the Captain rephrased carefully.

He thought about this for a brief moment.  
"Mm, maybe. I might have," Tintin replied in a tone that didn't sound all decisive, and when he indicted that he wasn't going to elaborate further, the Captain settled on the answer and began thinking up the second question; he didn't mind about the specifics anyway. Tintin watched him closely. "Next question?"  
"Will you be seeing them again?"  
"I wouldn't think so," he replied evenly. "I don't really have the time, or the occupation, for being able to spend time outside of work. Not to mention the times between report cases aren't particularly easy to predict."  
"Well, you could always have an extra person to work with, you know, share your typewriter with," the Captain suggested, half in jest.  
"Goodness, no!" Tintin appeared inimical to the idea. His work place had barely enough room for Snowy, so having another actual person there would be impossible. "I doubt my publishers would appreciate it if I suddenly allowed for someone else to collaborate with planning the articles," he reasoned, finding the idea simply awful.  
"I can see it now," the Captain continued, raising a hand in front of him as though envisioning a scene. "You'll come home to find your report already typed, by somebody else, already sent off to the publishers under your name."  
"Oh, _no_! Captain!" Tintin straightened up, trying not to laugh at the simultaneously ludicrous and somewhat terrifying thought.  
"And then, just when you think the worst is over, you'll come back to find your typewriter replaced by a-"  
"Good night, Captain!" Tintin said loudly over the continuation of the hypothetical situation, laughing and shaking his head. "I'll see you in the morning, and thank you for the positively frightening ideas, I'm sure I'll have nightmares. Good night!"  
The Captain laughed and raised a hand in goodbye. "Good night, Tintin!"

Tintin gave one last smile and stepped away, shutting the door behind him before gradually making his way back to him room.  
"Well, Snowy. It had been quite a day, hasn't it?" he said quietly to the dog trotting along at his heel. "I do wonder, if we were to meet her again, do you think she could work with us?"

The question fell to no answer and Tintin felt that, should the day rise once again, perhaps he would be the one sending letters instead.

* * *

**A/N: **So this conclude the 2 Part procrastination project! Reviews, comments, bonfires, jam, constructive criticism, deconstructive flames, wit, all are well received! It's always interesting to hear your thoughts, unless you're Anderson, in which case you lower the Intelligence Quotient on the whole street and face the other way you're putting me off.

The reason for the time-skip is to leave what happened, and who was there, to the imagination. That is, unless the unlikely event happens where I decide to fill it in later in a separate story, in which case my imagination may or may not reach your imaginations expectation when smeared across yet another document.  
Thank you for reading!


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